


Snowfall

by Natalya



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 23:09:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5267384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natalya/pseuds/Natalya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The snow is falling on New York and both boys have their own views on the winter.  Just a snapshot of a quiet morning between two super-soldiers in love.  Established relationship in the modern day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snowfall

Soft grey light filtered through the window, gently illuminating the bedroom. There had been no alarms set the night before, the knowledge that the next day was free one that was precious and not to be disturbed by the demands and constraints of time. Bucky opened his eyes, looking at the man lying next to him, a soft smile just curving his lips before he looked to the window, to the pale grey of the clouds in the growing dawn light, the delicate flakes of snow that drifted past the window. 

People always made the assumption that he’d hate the cold and the snow, that after falling into a snow filled ravine in the alps, after being frozen time and again in cryo, after icy missions in the depths of the Russian winter that he wouldn’t want anything more to do with it. 

And yet. 

And yet he did. 

Silently he got out of bed, ghosting across the room to the window, looking out at the city beyond, at the rooftops and the skyscrapers, at the streets already filled with cars, the pedestrians on the white coated sidewalks. It reminded him unshakably of the excitement of the snow as a child, of building snowmen with the other kids in the street, of snowball fights. It reminded him too of the horrors that Hydra had wrought once he had been an adult, of course it did. But his adult memories contained too the reminiscences of he and Steve huddled together under blankets in an old and draughty apartment, ignoring the world outside, talking, listening to music on their beat up gramophone player. It reminded him of nights in snowy woodland in Europe, trading tales around a campfire with men who had become not just comrades, but family. 

Snow brought many memories back, and he was grateful for them, the good and the bad, because it meant that he had reclaimed back what Hydra had taken. That he had reclaimed more and more of himself. 

It hadn’t been an easy road. 

Not by a long shot. 

But he’d made it back, had made it home. He and Steve were together once again, both in their personal lives and out in the field. Things weren’t perfect, but then they never had been. Both of them suffered with PTSD, both of them had nightmares that could wake them screaming into the darkness, both of them dealt with depression. They were both stubborn, could both row with each other, in fact they’d had some epic arguments over the months that they’d been together, but it was over and done quickly, no grudges held because that’s not who they were, either of them. For the rest of it? They laughed together, teased and bantered with each other, played video games, explored the world, fought side by side, trained and had fun. They loved unapologetically because they could. Because it was legal. Because already they had had far too many decades stolen from them in different ways. 

Steve though, Steve was the one who didn’t like the cold. The one who gritted his teeth against it and tried not to show the world that there was anything wrong. And for the most part he succeeded. The only one who had noticed was Natasha, sharp-eyed as ever, not missing a trick. But she’d simply kept it to herself, kept Steve’s secret for him. He knew why Steve hated it, knew why it tormented him beneath the surface. The cold and the snow for him had always heralded childhood ailments, another set of months of struggling to get through, something that he’d fought against his whole life. Afterwards it had meant losing his lover, his best friend in a snowy abyss. Then it had been ice and snow filled slow death of his own, only to be awoken out of time, out of place, and thoroughly, achingly alone. 

He moved away from the window, feeling the chill of the air around him, the cold that radiated from the glass, and looked over to where Steve was still asleep, hair mussed, face pressed against the pillow, one hand flung out over Bucky’s side of the bed as though almost reaching for him out of habit. Now and again Bucky idly wondered whether he had done that before he came back. He knew the answer though without ever asking the question out loud. Because of course he had. Of course he would have. And that thought? That realisation is one that makes him ache inside, for Steve, for all that he’d gone through, the loss and the grief that had left scars that few others realised were even there. 

Slowly he left the room, utterly silent as he went through to the kitchen, wondering vaguely just how much he could get away with before Steve woke up. While the coffee was sat brewing in the cafetiere he went through to the lounge, building up a fire in their log burner, setting it ablaze, watching it crackling merrily for a few moments as the kindling caught and began licking with delicate tongues of red, orange and gold at the dry logs. He kept the lights off, only the grey dawn and the firelight illuminating the room as he went around, lighting candles and lanterns to lend a soft glow, to take the edge off the cool tones of wintry grey that pervaded the room from the floor to ceiling windows that looked out across the city, the snow still drifting down past them like soft, delicate, downy feathers. 

His mind went to an old eiderdown that his mother had, one that was re-stuffed, darned and mended time and again, remembered the feathers that inevitably escaped, drifting around the room as he and his sisters tried to collect them up. A reminiscent smile curved his lips at that and he went and pulled a thick, warm, knitted blanket out of the chest in the corner, draping it over the couch, ready for use. The thick, dark charcoal grey wool was soft to the touch, sturdy and well used by them both and he lightly traced his fingers across the surface for a few moments before going back through to the kitchen once again where he turned on the oven, getting breakfast started. He opened up the tin in the cupboard that he had assumed the day before that Steve wouldn’t bother to look in and took out the couronne that he had baked, putting it carefully covered to warm in the oven, the sweet scent soon beginning to fill the room, mingling with the cinnamon and nutmeg that he’d put in the coffee. 

It felt good, peaceful and relaxing, not needing to rush, no noise and distraction, just the simple, pleasurable tasks at hand. He glanced at the clock, calculating the time that had passed and went back out to the lounge once again, putting on the stereo, letting the soft strains of Einaudi’s Le Onde filter gently through the apartment, filling the room with soft sound. 

Without making a sound he went to the bedroom door once again, to see Steve still sprawled out, chest rising and falling in an even rhythm. It still amazed him at times, that Steve loved him the way that he did, that Steve unfalteringly loved him, no matter what. They were, it felt like, two halves of a whole, that they could be drawn apart, could argue, could fight, could have miles and distance and years of death and ice in between them, and yet still, still they came back together again with a sweet relief of having found home once more. 

Bucky allowed himself a few moment’s indulgence just to watch, to marvel at the man who was his, who loved him and who he loved the same, before he went back to the kitchen once again, finishing off the two mugs of coffee, taking them through to the lounge before getting the couronne out of the oven, leaving it on a plate in one piece, taking it and two smaller plates out to the lounge, putting it on the table with the coffee, the sweet aroma filling the air. 

That done and the morning prepared he went back into the bedroom once again, getting back into bed with Steve, lying behind him, feeling Steve instinctively press back against him, a reaction that made him smile to himself before he slowly began trailing lazy kisses down the side of Steve’s neck and across his shoulder, feeling warm skin beneath his lips, slowly breathing in the scent of Steve’s skin, letting his hand slowly move over Steve’s side to come and rest on his hip, just where the waistband of his sweatpants lay. A soft sound escaped Steve and he shifted, turning to face Bucky, blue eyes sleepy, hair a sleep mussed state that just made Bucky yearn to kiss him still more. “Mornin’ punk.” 

“Mornin’ Buck...everything okay?” There was a concern in Steve’s voice around the rough edges of sleep and Bucky couldn’t help but reflect on what that said about them, about him. 

He nodded. “Everything’s just fine, promise you Stevie. Just awake before you is all.” 

That appeared to satisfy Steve and he yawned widely, turning to look at the window. “Snowing.” 

“I see your faculties are firin’ on all cylinders this morning.” Retorted Bucky, keeping his tone light even as he heard the heaviness in the background of Steve’s voice, barely hidden. “C’mon, I got something that might cheer you up.” 

Steve turned back again, a curiosity in his expression that hadn’t been there before and he blinked tilting his head slightly as though only just noticing the faint music coming through from the rest of the apartment. He didn’t say anything more, instead just took the hoodie that Bucky pressed on him, pulling it on his bare top, before getting out of bed, allowing Bucky to lead the way through to the lounge. 

And there it was. A peaceful haven. A soft, gentle way to wake up, a warm sanctuary away from the world. Calm and peaceful. The snow outside still fell and the icy chill of winter was merely a pane of glass away, but inside it was warm, the fire merrily burning along with the candles, while the scent of sweet festive spices hung in the air along with the aroma of fresh coffee and the freshly baked aroma of bread. 

Steve stopped and turned, looking at Bucky with a familiar smile, tinged with almost a hint of wonder. “You did all this…” 

“Not all this morning. The couronne I baked yesterday. Just warmed it up this mornin’. Don’t look at me like that punk. Way I look at it is, I know winter hits you hard, and bein’ as you’re my guy, and that’s for better or worse just like it’s always been, I figured I’d try at least to make the first hit of snow easier on you, remind you that there are good things about it. Like bein’ in here, just watchin’ it while bein’ warm and comfortable.” 

“Fuck…” Steve shook his head for a second before drawing Bucky in to a long, sweet kiss. 

“Well if this is all it takes to get some sugar in the morning…” 

“All?” Steve raised one eyebrow as he looked at Bucky before looking back at the lounge beyond with another shake of his head. 

“It ain’t a big deal. C’mon, the coffee is callin’ me.” Replied Bucky with a chuckle, heading towards the couch, pulling back the blanket, making space for Steve to join him, waiting for him to settle down and pick up his coffee before Bucky put one arm round Steve’s shoulders, feeling him lean into him as he picked up his own coffee with his free hand. 

A soft sigh escaped Steve, a sound of pure pleasure, one that made Bucky smile knowing that he had elicited that from him. He could feel how relaxed Steve was, the two of them falling silent as the music wove its spell around them. Neither of them spoke as they slowly drank their coffee and ate their breakfast, just letting themselves soak in the atmosphere, letting it surround them. And yet they were not apart, the silence was companionable, didn’t need to be filled, the constant physical connection between them something stronger than mere words. 

Bucky couldn’t help smiling to himself as he looked out of the window again, Steve close against his side. Neither of them were perfect. Their lives were not perfect. But moments like the one that they were in? Moments where they were together in that way? It made the hard times worth it, made everything that they dealt with in some ways easier, knowing that moments like that were what they were fighting for. He turned slightly to draw Steve into a soft kiss, tasting the mix of coffee and the sweetness of the couronne on his lips, before he slowly moved back. “Love you, punk.” 

Steve chuckled, the sound low and rich. “Love you too, jerk.” 

And with that they lapsed back into silence, easing into the morning as they watched the snowfall. 

The End.


End file.
